


The Great Escape: Rosencaster Prison: Interior Pathway A1

by moody_trans_detective



Series: Rogueass Galaxy [33]
Category: Rogue Galaxy
Genre: "prison rules", ACAB, M/M, Spit Roasting, Threesome - M/M/M, Why Did I Write This?, tragic backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:55:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28352778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moody_trans_detective/pseuds/moody_trans_detective
Summary: Simon learns the truth about "prison rules."
Relationships: Simon Wicard/Henry/Robert (Rogue Galaxy)
Series: Rogueass Galaxy [33]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956043
Kudos: 1





	The Great Escape: Rosencaster Prison: Interior Pathway A1

For a while there, Simon had been worried the Desert Claw would unleash his full potential and utterly destroy Rosencaster. The man was complete filth, true, but prison rules stated you didn’t do _more_ killing, at least not the warden himself, except in a few select scenarios that frankly Simon didn’t know but was fairly sure hadn’t been met.

At any rate, the look in Jaster’s eyes had been frightening, and Simon got the feeling Lilika would’ve gone along with it. She was a warrior from a, quite frankly, regressed planet, and probably had a hard time sussing right from wrong. So when he had the chance, he let them know he appreciated their restraint, even if it was as they were running away.

“I’m proudda yew,” he panted. “Botha yew. I really thought back there yewwer goin’ t’kill Rosencaster.”

“We should have,” said Lilika.

“Come on,” said Jaster. He increased pace down the corridor.

“But there’s a way of things.” Simon rushed to keep up with them, wondering how they could be so fast, how they knew where the exit was. “An’ if ye had…”

“What?” asked Jaster, suddenly slowing. He seemed tense.

“It’s prison rules. I know ye hate me sayin’ so, but that’s jus’ how it is. Prison rules’re there for a reason, they—”

“Simon, stop.” Jaster whirled on him, and in that moment Simon thought he saw a flash of the Desert Claw unrestrained. Jaster’s eyes practically flamed, but his voice was cold. “Prison rules just means rape.”

“Wha’?” Simon was caught off guard. “No!”

“It’s. Just. Rape.” Jaster’s jaw was clenched.

“I agree,” said Lilika.

“No, no—there’s a whole set o’em, rules that tell ye what to do if you wanna survive someplace as hard as this place. Ye follow the rules, yer spared.”

“Spared _what_?” asked Jaster.

Simon coughed.

“Rape an’ torture an’ murder,” he mumbled.

“What do you even think that is? If you don’t want it, Simon, it’s rape.”

“Well, not exactly. Negotiations—” Simon stopped at the look on Jaster’s face and swallowed. “Er…”

He was having a difficult time with the young Desert Claw’s irritation. Simon had learned this as a boy and never forgotten. Maybe it was a cultural difference, something Jaster didn’t understand, what with being raised on Rosa. They didn’t have massive prisons there, Simon knew, not like this one here on Zerard.

“It’s like this,” he gestured with his hands, resisting bouncing in agitation. “Say yer in a spot o’trouble, ye want off light. Ye can trade favors fer better treatment. Er, a transaction, yeh? Make sense?”

“It’s not a transaction if one party has a gun!”

Jaster was failing to understand his meaning. Simon didn’t know how to get through to him.

“I don’ think ye understand…”

Jaster sighed.

“If you’re the cops, with all the power of the military and law behind you, and _I’m_ some random sorry bastard—how is it a fair transaction? If you’re a prisoner, a guard has power over you—why don’t you understand this?”

“Mus’ be a Rosan thing,” said Simon, but the way Jaster tensed at that, it was the wrong thing to say. Desert Claw was being very touchy. “Look—I mean, how is prison rules any different than prostitution, eh?”

This was also the wrong thing to say.

“No. Just no.” Jaster rubbed the back of his head vigorously. “They’re not—”

“The one yer paid in zehn an’ the other, in returned favors.”

“The difference is I can turn someone down if I don’t like what they want me to do,” snapped Jaster. “For fuck’s sake, Simon!”

“Look, _I_ didn’t make the prison rules—”

“It’s just rape,” said Jaster again.

“We should be going,” said Lilika. She seemed to have no interest in their discussion. Well, she hadn’t had to play by the rules at all, now that Simon thought back on it. “I don’t think we want those soldiers catching up with us.”

“You’re right,” said Jaster. He deflated some. “Let’s go.”

Simon wasn’t a fan of arguments, so he was fine with the Desert Claw dropping the matter. They raced down corridors again, what Jaster said worrying at Simon’s thoughts.

What if he was wrong about prison rules? What if the Desert Claw was right?

He’d learned about them decades ago, when he was a teen. Simon had been from a family that hadn’t considered itself well-off, really, but they’d been able to afford everything he wanted, within reason. Schooling and extracurriculars and a vacation a year, nothing extravagant. Just the basics.

He'd gone through a bad patch as a teen. It was hard for your balls to drop and your nose to get even bigger and your mom to leave your dad and all that. He’d been weak. He’d sought out drugs. Someone from school had sold him a bag of dream mushrooms and he’d spent his entire allowance on it. But he’d been caught.

The cops—young at the time, now that Simon thought about it—had scared the living hell out of him. Yelling at him, interrogating him behind the school. Henry and Robert, their names had been, the former short and stout, the latter tall and thin and almost skeletal. They’d told him about Rosencaster Prison. They’d threatened to tell his heartbroken father what a shitty son he had.

“You think this is bad?” Henry had asked. “You have no idea what kind of trouble you’re in.”

Simon had shaken like a leaf in the gym after school hours. This had been his first run-in with the law.

“I’m a good guy, really,” he’d insisted.

Robert had held up the baggie of dream mushroom.

“This says otherwise, kid,” he’d said. “We’re gonna have to charge you.”

Henry had taken out the cuffs.

“No, please,” Simon had said. He remembered with shame how he’d begged at first, relied on his father. “This was one time, one mistake. I never even tried them! My dad’ll tell you—”

“Maybe we should have a discussion with your father,” Robert had said. “Take you down to the station and have him pick up his criminal son there.”

“No, please, I swear this was the first time and I never—”

“Hands, kid,” Henry had said. “You’ll be going t’Rosencaster for a long, long time.”

“You gotta believe me! You got it all wrong about the kind of guy I am.”

“How did we get it wrong?” Robert’s nose had scrunched. “We caught you with the bag of mushroom in your hands. Was it candy bars in there before we showed up?”

“Maybe we should let him in on a little secret,” Henry had said.

“This posh bastard? Nah.”

“Hands,” Henry had said again.

Simon had sniffled and extended them. He couldn’t go to prison. He wouldn’t last a day he was too young he’d thought there were laws about throwing the under-eighteens in prison to begin with…

“Y’ever hear about prison rules, kid?” Henry had asked.

Robert had rolled his eyes.

“Him? Nose is too big.”

Simon had reddened in shame.

“The nose isn’t for you then.” Henry snapped one of the cuffs on Simon’s left wrist. “I’m telling you this so you have a chance in there. Concept of prison rules. They’ll keep you safe.”

“What’s prison rules?” Simon had asked, desperate for any advice he could get. He’d only been fifteen, he hadn’t known shit.

“It’s like this,” Robert had said. “Sometimes people wanna hurt you, shank you murder you whatever. So you do them a favor, they maybe back off. Understand?”

“Maybe?” Simon hadn’t really, now that he thought back in hindsight. “Do they apply to being arrested?”

“Sometimes,” Robert had said.

Simon had jumped on that. It had seemed the best way to handle it—his father wouldn’t have to know, and best of all, not getting tossed in Rosencaster Prison, where the hardest of hardened criminals were.

“What kind of favor can I offer the two of you?”

“Lay down on the bench on your back,” Henry had said.

It was the bench in the locker room. Simon had done it. He’d expected something humiliating, but he’d been humiliated before. Henry pulled his arm around and cuffed Simon’s other hand so he was chained in place to the bench.

“And if I do you this favor you’ll make the mushrooms and everything go away?”

“Sure thing, kid,” Henry had said. His hands had gone for his belt.

“We won’t even tell your father.” Robert had moved around to undo Simon’s pants, yank them down.

“So what is this? Write all over me in permanent marker, leave me cuffed naked here for everyone to find tomorrow morning?”

“Not exactly,” Henry had said. He’d pulled his dick out and was stroking it.

Simon had suddenly not liked prison rules. But he hadn’t really had any other options. It was this or let his father know he was trying to become a teen drug addict. And he was handcuffed down. Simon had started crying.

“Please, I haven’t even been with a woman yet!”

“Prison rules, kid,” Henry had said. “You could go to prison instead.”

“No, I wouldn’t survive prison, I—”

Henry had grabbed him by the nose, yanked open his mouth, and shoved his cock in. He’d tasted, well, bad. But Simon hadn’t had much time to dwell on it because Robert had dropped his own pants and pushed Simon’s legs up. The cop had slathered something on his dick, shampoo or hair gel or whatever he could find, and had shoved it up Simon’s ass. It had been like fire, like tearing him open. Simon had screamed, and Henry had taken the opportunity to shove himself deeper. Simon had gagged, felt his stomach ejecting everything, managed to swallow it back just in time.

Those two cops had taught him prison rules, and it had been a painful lesson. He’d been violated at both ends simultaneously, had learned the taste of a man’s cock and semen, had discovered what a sore ass really was. By the end Simon had been crying, had been heaving while the cops pulled up their pants.

“What’s the problem?” Henry had asked.

“You got off easy, kid,” Robert had said.

“He hasn’t gotten off.”

“No,” Simon had moaned. The only thing more humiliating would have been to have them jerk him off after all that. “Just leave me.”

“Like that? Tempting,” Henry had said. When Robert had shot him a look, he’d shrugged. “We set up a camera and see what the other kids do to him when they find him like this. Underage gang rape sells.”

Simon had panicked at that thought. He’d been certain several of his classmates absolutely would rape him if given the chance, just to humiliate him.

“Prison rules is one thing,” Robert had said. “But footage? That’ll come back to bite us in the ass. Let the kid up. The rules have been met.”

Simon had recalled just how relieved he’d been to be let up, just how dismayed he’d been to hear Robert speak.

“Get back home to your dad, kid. And find a better source next time. Your dream mushrooms are fake.”

Simon hadn’t liked prison rules then, and he didn’t like them now, but he’d assumed they’d been a structural necessity, a kind of scoundrel’s honor. And now, thinking back to when he first learned about them, keeping in mind what Jaster said, he was disappointed. Ashamed. He’d gotten it all wrong.

“Prison rules is rape,” he mumbled to himself as they reached the end of the corridor.

“Yes,” said Jaster.

“So you an’ that guard…”

“I just want to get out of here,” said Jaster.

“Me an’ that cat person…”

“I think you volunteered that on your own.”

Simon wasn’t very happy.

“I wanna get back t’the ship,” he said.

“We’re leaving now,” said Lilika, and pulled open the elevator door.


End file.
